


if i were the ocean, would you be the sky?

by fulmiinata



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Ocean Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulmiinata/pseuds/fulmiinata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale begins with Makoto leaving. </p>
<p><i>"AU where Makoto is always beside Haruka, cheering him on…except no one can see him. (Essentially, ghost/spirit!Makoto.)"</i> </p>
<p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	if i were the ocean, would you be the sky?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haatomune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haatomune/gifts).



> inspired by these tracks:  
> [[x]](http://harukadolphin.tumblr.com/post/62774634281/makotos-past-saddest-song-in-existence)  
> [[x]](http://swimclubboys.tumblr.com/post/62863531929)  
> [[x]](http://foreverghiblimelodies.tumblr.com/post/7552925161/song-one-summers-day-performed-composed-by)  
> [[x]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bpkkTlUMg8)
> 
> just a heads up: the story goes in reverse.

 

* * *

_and there you go, sunset_

_gathering gold in the dusk. ო_

* * *

 

_xii._

Makoto kisses him. He kisses his nose and kisses his cheeks and kisses his mouth, again and again.

And then he starts to fade.

It’s in sheer white, sparkling white, blinding white. In the scales of a dragon, the petals of a flower he bursts, into nothing but shimmers in the last white-gold drops of sunlight.

Haru stands, with drummer boys in his chest and fairies in his feet, and calls out the window, “Goodbye, Makoto.”

A breeze ruffles his hair, right then. It touches his face, holds it gently, and dries the tears Haru didn’t even know were there. It smells like salt and brine and, so quietly he might have imagined it, he can almost hear,

_“Goodbye, Haru.”_

 

 

 

_xi._

“I can’t come back, any more.” Makoto’s face isn’t puffy or red or remotely imperfect, despite his sobbing.

“You’ve been here too long,” Haruka says, because he knows that much. He knows, even if it has never been said, that Makoto can’t live in the human world forever.

A shaky breath, then Makoto is crying all over again, diamonds and pearls. “I’m sorry, Haruka.”

Haru stiffens, and wants to tell Makoto to stop being sorry, that there is nothing to be sorry for.

 

 

 

_x._

He’d been dreaming without sleeping, lying on his back on the bed and crafting scenarios that could never be against the ceiling of his bedroom. The sky is a washed out blue, the last white-gold drops of sunlight dripping from its alice eyes.

Haru rubs the nonexistant sleep from his eyes, sitting up on his knees to look out the window, and the last thing he expects to see is Makoto, standing just outside it. The second those peridot eyes meet his Haru moves, moves towards the window in a way that feels like he’s swimming.

His body feels heavy, his heart is beating too fast as he opens the window and the words tumble out of his mouth, thick and sweet like honey. “Makoto.”

“Haru,” Makoto’s eyes are too green; it’s too much for Haruka’s heart.

“You left.” Involuntarily, shamefully, Haru’s body shudders. “You vanished.” His eyes add words in between. Worried. Scared. Lonely.

Like diamonds, tears falls from Makoto’s eyes, chasing each other down his cheeks. He still smiles, though, that smile that Haru knows can never belong to a human. His skin shimmers as he takes Haru’s hand in his own, warm and cool at the same time. “I’m sorry Haru. I had to go. I put you in danger.”

And Haru doesn’t say anything in reply, he just holds Makoto’s hands like a lifeline.

 

 

 

_ix._

He doesn’t appear for weeks, not in Haruka’s room, not at his school not even in his dreams.

Haruka still believes, with his whole heart, that Makoto is still there, in his heart, somewhere.

 

 

 

_viii._

“He’s so sad, Rai, I don’t know what to do. He won’t tell me anything.”

“It’s called growing up. It happens, when they stop believing.”

 

 

 

_vii._

Haruka wakes up the next morning, but Makoto isn’t there.

 

 

 

_vi._

“Let’s go swimming,” Haruka says, one day when they are walking along the beach. He watches with flickering blue eyes as the waves roll along the shore, crested with white foam and singing a quiet song. The sun beats down harshly on the two of them, bright and unforgiving and Makoto worries that he might evaporate before remembering that he can’t because he is near the sea.

“Let’s go swimming,” he repeats, and tugs on Makoto’s arm.

With a laugh Makoto complies, his hand never leaving Haru’s as they walk closer to the shore. Haru peels off his shirt but Makoto doesn’t, he doesn’t need to if the water will never get him wet.

The waves lap at their toes as they step in, slowly at first, until Haru breaks out into a run, running out to the waves that call his name, farther and farther out until the water reaches his collarbones.

Makoto follows suit, hesitantly and it’s strange, because shouldn’t he be happy, to return to the sea? They hardly ever go near the ocean, much less swim in it, and Haru thinks it’s strange, knows it is but doesn’t dwell on the thought when he feels Makoto come up next to him.

He smiles right then, when Makoto lightly splashes him with water and it hits him in the face. He splashes back and Makoto laughs, a light soft sound that makes Haruka’s heart feel like flying.

And then the two of them just float, the water holding them up with gentle caresses and the wind whispering softly in their ears. Haruka’s blue eyes slide closed; everything is so calm and so quiet that he feels like he could just fall asleep.

But suddenly, like hitting a wall, it stops. The world is silent and Haruka is pulled beneath the surface by something he can’t see; he feels like he’s choking. The sun, the sun is above him and it’s getting farther and farther away he can’t reach it no matter how hard he tries, he feels like he’s choking and the water, the water is filling his nose and mouth it feels like he’s being suffocated—

There is a glint of teeth that are too sharp, too pointed and too bright to be human. Haru stares and eyes that are red and frightening stare back, unblinking and narrow. Like red ribbons, hair trails up, around a face that is too dark to be seen but Haru is certain that it’s there. His mouth opens in a scream that is silent when the creature rushes toward him, but then, like a lion the wind is suddenly roaring in his ears, gooseflesh on his cheeks.

Makoto is holding him, burying his face in Haru’s hair and crying. Makoto holds him tight for a long long time, and whispers I’m sorry Haru I’m sorry I’m _so_ sorry Haru Haru Haru _Haru._

They’re on the beach now, and Haruka looks towards the water and realizes in that moment why they never swim in the ocean.

  
  
  


 

 

_v._

They are sitting on the stone steps one day, and Makoto is so real, so very there, that they are touching. Haru has pulled his knees to his chest, head resting on Makoto’s shoulder. They sit in silence, because they are sleeping, they are sleeping and they are dreaming the same things.

“Makoto,” Haruka breathes, and the other boy wakes up, smiles, and asks him what’s wrong.

There is nothing wrong, though. Haruka just likes to say Makoto’s name, to hear the word curve his lips and float on the tip of his tongue. Haruka likes to say Makoto’s name and hold his hand and breathe in his scent, that scent of salt and brine.

He likes to say Makoto’s name because it feels so _right._

 

 

 

_iv._

Makoto grows the same way Haruka does. He grows taller, his limbs grow longer. His body, once round and soft with the curves of childhood, now curves with the muscle under his skin. He stands tall, with broad shoulders and sturdy feet, like an Adonis. Haru never says anything about it, but he thinks that Makoto looks more like a sea god than an ocean spirit.

Makoto is always by Haruka’s side. He only leaves when the sun sets, when the ocean grows dark with night and reflects the stars, but returns in the early gray-pink of the morning.

Sometimes Haruka wonders where he goes off to.

 

 

 

_iii._

It is his innocence, his wholehearted belief of Obaasan’s legends that give Haru the sight. Only he is able to see Makoto, to touch him and feel the things he feels. His bright ocean eyes let nothing escape, not the way Makoto’s voice is soothing and rolls like the waves, not the way he shimmers in the light, not the way that magic twirls and dances from his hands into the hearts of those that don’t even know he’s there.

His parents talk, they notice how Haruka walks like there is someone next to him, the spark in his eye that says nothing but holds thousand of words. Sometimes he will slip an extra treat into his pocket when he thinks his mother isn’t watching, or leave just a bit of pop in his glass “for later.”

“It’s an imaginary friend, Hisoka, they’re normal for children his age.”

“Haruka has never been normal, Rai. You remember what Amaya-san always told us, that Haruka is a special boy. He sees things that we can’t.”

“Of course he can, his intentions are pure and the spirits are drawn to it. There’s a whole world out there that only children like him can see, children who believe and love them for what they are.”

“But—”

“Okaasan always told me,” Mr. Nanase’s eyes are glassy and far-away as they recall a dear memory. “That the ocean spirits would awake at night, celebrating and living as we slept, sometimes whisking away those who didn’t believe and showing them a sight like no one has ever seen before.”

...

It is on that same day, when Mrs. Nanase is walking past her son’s room, a bundle of clothes in her arms ready for washing. She can hear them, the whispers, casual and slow like rainfall.

“Haruka,” with her foot she pushes open the door, and peers inside.

There is no one in the room except her little boy, sitting alone on his bed.

 

 

 

_ii._

The house they are moving to is much bigger than the apartment they had in Sakaiminato. It smells clean, of brine and fresh air, as opposed to the heavy scent of exhaust and fried food that wafted through the windows back home. Dust still coats the nooks and crannies, though, settled in like an old man at rest.

His father puts down a large cardboard box marked with ‘Kitchen’ to roll up his sleeves. “Haruka, would you mind going around back to see if the door is open? Your mother and I are going to start unloading our things.” His blue eyes, the very same ones that Haru inherited, follow the slim form of Haru’s mom striding into the house, her black hair pulled up into a ponytail. Haruka always loved his mother’s hair, the way it cascaded down her back in a single satiny curtain, to the way it glowed with navy under the light. Absentmindedly he would tangle his fingers in it, entranced with how it sluiced between them like water.

With a simple nod Haru walks around the side of the house to where the back door is, pushing through some untended plants along the way — the overgrown ferns grab at his ankles and brush his fingers, while the withering yellow roses simply bow at his feet.

The back door is a sliding glass one, the actual glass of it smudged and dirtied from many years of uninhabitance. Haru’s small hands grasp the handle and pull. The door sticks and refuses to open, but after a bit more persistence it obliges and slides against its partner with a loud _thwack._ It reveals a dark hallway. Haru steps in cautiously, wanders down to a room hidden only by a ratty curtain. He ducks below it and reaches up high above his head along the wall until his stubby fingers make contact with a light switch.

“Ah!” A black shadow peels off the walls and rushes past Haru to escape the room, whizzing by his face and in its wake leaves black sooty streaks. With the back of his hand Haru wipes them off, and follows the shadow.

It filters through the crack of a closed door. Quietly Haru presses his small body against it, ear pushed firmly to the wood.

“What? You saw a boy...?” The voice is gentle, tender and loving. It sounds like the voice of a boy around Haruka’s own age of six, but laced between the words is something that can only belong to someone much older. It is followed by a chittering, and a rustle like ashes being shaken in a can.

“No it’s okay, don’t worry. Shh, stop talking all at once—”

Haru pushes open the door, mouth set in a small line and his hands on his hips. “Why are you in my house?” he demands, blue eyes scanning the room for the source of the voice. They settle on a young child seated in a corner, with wide eyes of peridot and brown sugar hair, surrounded by small black balls. “Go away.”

The boy rises to his feet, smiles brightly. The room is dark, but the little boy himself seems to glow. He is wearing normal play clothes: a green T-shirt and overalls. “I’m sorry!” he chirps. “I didn’t know you were going to live here now! I’m a _kaiyo seishin,_ an ocean spirit, but you can call me Makoto! I’ve been living here for a while, but I can leave if you want.” His lower lashes gently touch the crests of his chubby cheeks.

“Ocean spirit?” Haru’s eyebrows draw together, and he looks at the boy again but sees nothing that would suggest such a thing. His grandmother has told him stories about spirits and the spirit world, but they involved great beings of unfathomable stature and beauty. This boy — Makoto — while being rather cute, is no unfathomable creature.

Makoto nods, the soft fringe on his forehead tangling with the delicate hairs of his brows. “I’m still waiting to get trained, and I decided to live here until then, but if you really want me to, I can leave.”

Haru watches as Makoto begins his attempt to climb out the window, but stops him midway, his little fingers wrapping around the brunette’s equally little hand. “No. Stay.”

“Wah—really?” With one foot still on the ledge Makoto turns around to face Haruka, his eyes shining and the smile once again on his delicate face. He has his arms around Haru in a tight hug before the other can protest. “I’ve never had a friend before,” he whispers into the other’s shoulder.

In an act that seems so natural and easy to him, Haru laces his own arms around Makoto’s shoulders. “Neither have I.”

 

 

 

_i._

“Haruka.”

He’d been dreaming in the daytime, crafting scenarios of fantasy against the ceiling of the car. The hum of the car against the road had been relaxing to him, lulling him slowly and gently into sleep, but the call of his father snapped him out of his daze.

“Haruka, look. You can see the ocean.” With one hand still on the wheel he points out of the driver’s window, where the ocean glimmers underneath the sun in shards of light.

Haru rubs the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, curling his legs in to stand on his knees and look outside the window. There, rushing past him but never-ending is the sea, as promised. He sees the beach, caressed gently by the waves, and the cliffs, glistening with the spray of the salt water. His breath fogs up the glass, his hands creating small smudges on either side as he admires the vast expanse of the coast.

“Are you happy about moving now, Haruka?” asks his mother, normally quiet, from the passenger side. She tucks a silky section of dark hair behind her ear, equally dark eyes reflected in the window. “You can go to the beach whenever you want during the summer.”

Rather than answer with words from his mouth Haru answers with words from eyes, which shine in newfound acceptance. He originally opposed the idea of leaving Sakaiminato rather strongly, it being what he considered his home and the only place he really knew, but seeing the ocean there, so close to him, so uninhibited by the atmosphere of a city, it made a small part of his heart a little bit less heavy, a little bit less reluctant to live in the small town of Iwatobi.

**Author's Note:**

> it's a little weird, i'll admit, but hopefully it didn't turn out too bad. this is for **kaoru** , as part of the [makoto tachibana birthday fanworks exchange](http://makotobirthdayexchange.tumblr.com), so i hope you liked it ო


End file.
